


Where the Love-light Gleams

by JainaDurron7



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Healing, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JainaDurron7/pseuds/JainaDurron7
Summary: "But Annabeth was still thankful for this Christmas. Because this was a part of the journey, part of the path. She knew that if she just got through this Christmas, then she could only move on and the next one would be better."
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Frederick Chase, Annabeth Chase & Sally Jackson (Percy Jackson), Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Where the Love-light Gleams

**_“Christmas eve will find me_ **

**_Where the love light gleams_ **

_ I'll be home for Christmas _

_ If only in my dreams” _

~ “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, Bing Crosby

* * *

“Is that good?”

Sally leaned over to peer into Annabeth’s mixing bowl. The older woman was at ease, relaxed, and cheery in spite of her physical state. Her brown hair which now carried a few subtle gray streaks was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her cheek lightly dusted with flour. More flour and butter coated her apron which was pulled tightly around her protruded abdomen. In recent weeks, Sally had been exhausted, but absolutely nothing would keep her down during the holidays— especially when there was baking to do.

It took her hardly a second to judge Annabeth’s work before she turned back to the mixer before her and shook her head. “More,” was all she said.

Annabeth raised the small bottle of food dye and squeezed in two more blue drops.

Without looking up, Sally merely repeated, “More.”

Two more drops.

“More.”

One, two, three, four, five—

“Perfect! Now, mix the color in, and then you can start taking spoonfuls and laying them on the sheet we have out.”

Annabeth did as she was instructed, every movement careful and concise. It wasn’t the first time she’d baked with Sally— not by a longshot— but she still felt like she was an amateur standing beside the legend of blue cookies. Plus, this was Christmas baking, and Annabeth was sure that made it even more special.

She’d spent a lot of time baking with her boyfriend’s mom when Percy had been missing, and they’d continued the tradition the past few months while Annabeth stayed in New York for hers and Percy’s senior year of high school. The familiar process was calming, grounding, and it hadn’t passed Annabeth’s notice that Sally had taken up pulling Annabeth aside for a baking session whenever her nightmares and exhaustion shadowed her.

“Okay, what about Ava?”

Annabeth looked up from her work to smirk, her gaze turned to Percy who was in the living room stringing the lights on the Christmas tree along with Paul. He looked between his parents, neither of whom seemed impressed.

Paul raised a dubious brow Percy’s way. “Does that really sound like something your mom or I would pick out?”

“I don’t know!” Percy threw his head back, exasperated. “I’m running out of guesses!”

“No one told you to guess.”

“Oh, come on. Why can’t you just tell me? It’s  _ my _ sister.”

Sally finally looked up from her mixing bowl. “So? Annabeth is family. Why would we tell you and not her?”

Sally’s sentiment warmed Annabeth in a place much deeper than the running oven could, and she beamed but had enough of a mind to stick her tongue out at Percy. From across the room, he glared, mimicking the gesture back.

“Is it Greek?”

“No!” both Sally and Paul were quick to chorus back as one, and Percy had the humor to chuckle.

“It’s a surprise,” Sally insisted firmly. “We’ll tell you when she’s born.”

“Okay, but what if I want to get her, like, a customized cute little blanket like at one of those embroidery shops?”

“Well, are you planning to? Because that doesn’t sound very wise if you don’t know what her name will be.”

Percy seemed to take that as his sign because he finally gave up and returned to lacing the tree in lights and popcorn.

“I’m really happy to be spending the holidays with you guys,” Annabeth found herself telling Sally a moment after the apartment had settled back into quiet, the voices of Dean Martin and Bing Crosby the only other sounds besides that of the mixer in the kitchen.

Sally looked up, wearing a smile that matched the joy and relief Annabeth felt. “I’m really glad you chose to spend the holidays here, too. And Paul, for that matter. We love having you over, Annabeth.”

“Thanks. I just … wasn’t ready to go back home yet.”

Annabeth paused. Why had she said that? It was true, a heavy truth she’d been thinking a lot about the last few days. But what on Olympus had possessed her to start telling Sally that? Annabeth bit her cheek. It wasn’t a big deal, she told herself. Sally had probably already guessed that much for herself.

As little a surprise she was sure it was, Annabeth could feel Sally’s gaze on her, and it made her stomach twist with anxiety. “Have you talked to your dad recently?”

“I— not in a couple weeks. But I was already planning on Iris messaging him soon. I know he gets worried.”

“Actually, I meant if you had talked to him about it.”

It. A neutral, unassuming word to cover the messy, dark host of things she knew she needed to talk with her father about. ‘It’ meaning talking to her dad about why she had chosen to spend her holiday break with Percy and his family in Manhattan rather than come home to San Francisco. ‘It’ meaning that thing that had happened only a few months ago that Annabeth was still running from.

“Oh. Not really. I … I want to talk to him about it.” That was true. She did. “But I don’t want to talk to … everyone about it. My brothers are only eleven. And my stepmom— she’s never understood any of the demigod stuff, and it wouldn’t be any comfort to me to try and explain the things I saw or how they even exist. I just— I want to talk to my dad, but it’s hard to find time alone with him.”

Sally pursed her lips and nodded. “Well, I think if you just asked him, he’d find some time pretty quickly to talk with you.”

Annabeth met her gaze. “Has he been calling you?”

“He worries, honey. He’s really worried about you. And certainly not without reason. He wants to know that you’re okay, that you’re going to be okay.”

Annabeth swallowed. Of course, she would be okay. Though, she’d had plenty of nights in the last few months where she wasn’t so sure. But Percy was a constant comfort, a steady rock, a reminder that she hadn’t gone through Tartarus alone. Percy had been there, he was still there, and he would always be there. Which was the main reason why Annabeth had decided to stay in New York for Christmas.

Her eyes burned until she lost her tight reign and a tear fell down her cheek. Like that, they came and fell like rain.

No rain. It was winter, the holiday season. Snow. Snow was pretty and peaceful and delicate.

Still, she wrinkled her nose, trying to make the rainfall stop.

“I miss him. But I can’t leave.”

“I know, honey.” Sally’s hand came up to rub her back, her touch light and soothing, another anchor she wasn’t sure she could leave behind. “I know.”

Annabeth lost touch with time while the tears came and she fell into Sally’s arms. She wasn’t sure how long it had lasted or how long Percy had been watching until Annabeth looked up and saw him standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looked hurt, like it hurt him to see her in pain. It might have been comforting if Annabeth didn’t want so much for Percy to be free of this pain, of the dark shadows and nightmares that haunted them both.

She got up and walked into his arms just to promise him she was okay. But if she wasn’t before, his hold on her, his sure and promising embrace was enough to warm her soul and chase away the ghosts of Tartarus. He held her tight for the long moment she allowed him before she gently stepped out of his hold. “I’m just going to call my dad.”

He nodded, letting her pass, and it hurt Annabeth a little more because part of her wished she’d stayed in his arms and let him hold her all night. There would be time for that later, she decided, and hurried to the bathroom.

Only a few minutes later, she had a small rainbow sprouting from the tub and a drachma ready to toss in. “Oh, Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Frederick Chase, San Francisco, California.”

In no time at all, through Annabeth’s mini rainbow projected the image of her father at his desk. He startled when he saw her, jumping from his chair and nearly falling over, but he rushed back to his desk, leaning forward as if to see his daughter better. “Annabeth?!”

“Hi, Dad.”

He noticed her tears fairly quickly and began to ask, “Are you okay?” before he thought better of it and reiterated. “How is everything with Percy’s family? Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, I love spending time with Sally and Paul. Sally and I are baking Christmas cookies.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delicious. You’ll have to send me some before Percy eats them all.”

Annabeth smiled. “Dad, I miss you.”

Frederick’s look softened if it was possible, and the smile he gave Annabeth was as heartbroken as she’d ever seen him. “I miss you too, Annabeth, but I want you to be happy. I want you to be with Percy if he makes you feel better.”

“He does.”

“Good. Then, stay with him. Stay there as long as you need.”

“It would make me feel better too if I could see you.” She wasn’t sure why she said that. She couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving Percy right now. Her and Percy’s mutual separation anxiety had proved problematic and they were both in therapy, but Annabeth could hardly go a night without terrible nightmares and dashing to Percy’s room. She couldn’t leave Manhattan. She couldn’t leave Percy. She  _ couldn’t. _

Annabeth blinked. “Do you think … you might be able to come up to New York for even just a day?”

Frederick smiled. “Of course. I can come up for a weekend or a week. Whatever you need, Annabeth. I’m here, dear. I know I don’t understand the things you’ve faced and everything you’ve suffered this last year, but I’m here. Anything, anyway I can help you. I’ll give it all. I want you to be okay, Annabeth.”

Annabeth pulled her knees up to her chin. “I just want a hug.”

Frederick laughed softly. “I’ll hug you for as long as you want.”

“Then, we can talk.”

On the other side of the rainbow, her father paused. “If you want to talk,” he asserted.

“I do.”

The next smile he gave looked more relieved than anything else. “I love you, Annabeth. Have a good time with Percy and his family. Enjoy it.”

“I will. Love you too, Dad. Bye.”

She waved a hand through the mist and the rainbow blinked out. She sat there a moment on the bathroom floor, took a breath, exhaled, counted to ten just like her therapist, a daughter of Apollo, had taught her. She leaned against the door, rested her cheek against the wood as if she could look to the other side. “Hey,” she spoke aloud. “Thanks for being here.”

Silence.

Then, “I’m always here, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth released the last tortured breath she had in her, then crawled around the door and into Percy’s arms.

This would be a hard Christmas. Harder than the painful ones of her childhood in Virginia. But as the day went on and Annabeth lapsed back into the holiday cheer and joy that had hold on the rest of the Blofis home, Annabeth knew she could mark this year as belonging to the past. She could breathe and stand a little taller. The hard days were getting easier. There were so many days of healing to go, but she could see the light at the end of the tunnel. She could see a bright and happy future with Percy and many more Christmases spent with the Blofises— and Percy’s little sister. Christmases where everyone wasn’t so worried about her. Where she wasn’t so worried herself. One day— soon, she promised herself— she and Percy would have a Christmas when they smiled first thing upon waking up, and this Christmas would be long past them.

But Annabeth was still thankful for this Christmas. Because this was a part of the journey, part of the path. She knew that if she just got through this Christmas, then she could only move on and the next one would be better.

This one was hard, but it could be worse. This one would be okay because she wasn’t alone.


End file.
